Perfect World
by Marvy
Summary: Each chapter is a story from the LI's perspective. Decided I wanted to stretch my fingers a little and try my hand at some characters I'm not used to. Anders/Fem!Hawke Mage, Fenris/Fem!Hawke Mage, Varric/?, potential Isabela and Merril storylines. There may be more. Let me know if you have any requests!
1. Anders

Author's Note: Anders/Fem!Hawke mage romance. I've got Fenris/Fem!Hawke mage planned, and a Varric one floating in my head. If you have any ideas you want to see, PM or comment and I'll see what kind of plot bunnies I can come up with. So. Enjoy! It's not beta'd. Note: I realized the first few sentences were a mess. Fixed that.

Disclaimer: Some game lines, stuff's not mine.

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><p>I didn't even see the group enter my clinic until they were halfway to me. And even then, <em>I<em> didn't see them. Justice could sense them. Her.

"I have made this a place of sanctum and healing, why do you threaten it?" It wasn't me, not entirely. Justice had taken over for a minute, because the second I laid eyes on her I couldn't have said two coherent words in a row if my life depended on it.

I felt Justice's disapproval as his presence faded to a dull thrum in the back of my mind and stood down a little as she spoke, offering an attempt at an apology for disturbing me and making conversation to put me at ease.

I could barely struggle to understand her at first, so incredibly enraptured was I from the second I caught sight of her.

One thing could be said about mage robes in Kirkwall; they were definitely more flattering than anything I had seen a mage in back in Ferelden. She wore dark, worn boots to her knees with light green pants, tight and dirty that matched the green and chainmail surcoat over a studded green shirt with a high collar. Her hair was dark and thick, piled atop her head and long enough that I had a hard time believing she didn't need to keep it tied up to get anything accomplished. While I struggled to make conversation about Ser Pounce-A-Lot and the Wardens, my eyes caught on a buckle peeking out against her leg. I bet it was a dagger sheath, although the long staff strapped to her back made me believe that she wielded more than a large knife. A large, thick belt hung with various things nearly matched the color of her boots rested against her hips and accentuated the curve of her waist above it. She looked thin, too thin, but the way her body was shaped was beyond incredible.

Before Justice, I had been quite the ladies' (and mans') man, and I knew that. I fondly remembered those days, even if Justice disapproved. But it was nothing like seeing the vision in front of me.

Somehow I managed to navigate my way through a conversation with her and agreed to help her get into the Deep Roads if she agreed to help me help Karl.

When she left my clinic, she did not leave my mind. From that moment forward, I ached with the thought of her despite myself. The gentle curve of her jaw; her perfectly formed lips full and pouty, quick to sass and to smooth; her eyes, wide and brown and shaped like almonds with a shine like the stars; even her nose was impeccable, long and magnificently unbroken despite her best efforts, her nostrils just a little flared to open up her face. That's probably a weird thing to say, but you just can't understand. A more beautiful woman never lived, and I was sure of it. Her skin seemed to be perpetually just tanned, as if she had one long-lost Rivaini family member.

I had never believed in love at first site; Andraste's knickers, I barely believed in love to begin with. And at first I thought I was just obsessed with her; I just thought I wanted to get laid, to be honest. Despite Justice, I found myself at the Blooming Rose one night so that I could relieve my tension. We had spent too much time too close together in the Deep Roads and I couldn't breathe for want of her. She was busy reeling over the fact that her asshole brother had gone and joined the Templars and dealing with organizing everything with her family estate so that she and her mother might move in. I had a night to myself and I was going to do everything I could to erase her from my mind.

It didn't work. It didn't even sort of work. It made it worse. In addition to a wicked hangover and the taste of a prostitute in my mouth, all I could feel was shame for days. Weeks. I had said Hawke's name over and over that night and had practically cried with the need of her, drunk out of my mind and trying my best to ignore the insistence of Justice niggling in my consciousness. He didn't talk to me, but he didn't have to. He was like my conscience. Only more annoying.

The fact that she seemingly accepted everything about me made me believe it was more about all of her than just wanting to see her naked. She accepted Justice. She accepted my anger. She accepted the fact that I flirted and then backpedaled, she accepted that I looked at her too long.

_You can tell me anything_, she had murmured, unbidden. _Be careful what you offer_, I told her. And then she said I was handsome, and I told her to stop. She pushed and I pushed back. I tried to convince her to leave me, to tell her that I would inevitably break her heart, that I couldn't handle that. I nearly told her I loved her that day, not two days before the expedition, only hardly days after meeting her. Love was weakness and I needed her, craved her, loved her. Obsessed didn't even scratch the surface.

I spent as much time in her presence as possible, like a sad puppy dog with no other direction in life. When I wasn't trying desperately to hide my fawning, I was pouring myself over the poor population in an attempt to block the world out. If the idea of turning into Fenris didn't make me want to retch, I probably would have started drinking profusely. Instead I threw myself into assisting apostates and the downtrodden – which were often the same people.

She found me, exhausted and blissfully alone, in dying candlelight in the corner of my clinic. The glow from her staff faded to the dullest of glows when she stopped in front of me, lowering herself to her knees.

No matter how tired I was, that was not fair. The clothes she wore now were finer, the armor more refined and, if possible, closer to her skin. In the summer months, she preferred bare arms and magical shields. It was, magnificently, very warm. She hadn't even bothered to wear armor that night. She had clearly taken the cellar of her home to where it came out just beside my clinic, her red and black noble clothes too fine for our dingy surroundings. When she knelt, she knelt in dirt and her tight black dragonhide pants were thus dirtied. It seemed desperately wrong, but there was nothing to be done.

Her delicate, long-fingered hands rested on my knees and she looked up at me from a position I had imagined her in a hundred thousand times. And she was touching me, even if it was through far too many layers of clothing.

She was relatively close to everyone most of the time; she was the sort of person that hugged other people for no reason at all, that stood close without batting an eyelash about it. And the sort of person that knelt at the feet of her friend, touching him and driving him crazy.

I opened my eyes completely and moved my hands over hers, hesitating before I lifted her hands and slowly moved them off of me. I couldn't stand it much longer, with her practically between my legs and the warm of her skin practically burning me through my clothes.

"Anders," she breathed and I nearly died at the sound in her voice. It was excited, strained, needy. Not the kind of need I wanted to hear, but she _needed_ me. "Anders, I just got your letter. About what's going on with the mages here. The Knight-Commander. I had to come, to make sure you were okay."

"You can't…you shouldn't," I started, not really sure what I was trying to say. She had moved and she was leaning over me, her hands on my face and I thought my heart stopped. I inhaled sharply, my hands covering hers but not taking them away.

"If they so much as _breathe in your direction_," she hissed, her eyes flashing in the candlelight from beside her. Her staff's glow was gone now, settled against the wall closest to us – right beside mine.

"But you're in danger too, Hawke. Because of me more than just you." I could hear the sound of my beard scratching against her soft skin as my jaw moved beneath her hands and I tried to keep my breathing even when her hands slid to rest gently against my neck on either side and she leaned close, her forehead pressed to mine. I held my eyes closed tightly, afraid of what I would do if I looked at her so close to me. "All of this, the struggle to keep my anger separate from Justice… I would lose everything if they took you, Hawke. I would drown us in blood to keep you safe."

She sighed and her breath, sweet from the mead that she had been drinking at dinner no doubt, washed over me before she pulled back. Her hands dropped to her sides and I nearly reached out to bring her closer again. "I don't want to see you lose yourself, Anders. Not for me, not for anyone. Not to your anger or to the Templars."

"When you take away those, what is left?" I responded bitterly, suddenly stiffening with anger. I had let her closeness cloud my mind. I needed her but I couldn't have her and I knew it.

"You, Anders – and Justice. Justice can be a part of you but your anger doesn't need to be," she frowned at me and I thought my heart was breaking at the look on her face. I wanted her to smile again, to be close, to kiss me. Oh, for the love of Andraste, I wanted her to kiss me more than I wanted to save the mages in those moments.

I wanted to hold her pull her into my lap but instead I pushed her back a little, gently of course, and stood. She was tall for a woman but a head shorter than me. She would have fit perfectly against my chest, if I pulled her into a hug. "I can only be who I am, Hawke. And I know that the anger in me is just as much a part of me as Justice is. There will be violence - more violence. And I…if you keep yourself close to me, I'll only hurt you. I've told you a thousand times, Hawke, I will break your heart."

"I can't lose you, Anders," she responded to me, matter-of-factly and without a frown or a smile. "I won't.

"Hawke, stop," I winced, putting my hands on her shoulders. The candlelight was soft, highlighting only half of her features. But I could still see her, so clearly after memorizing her every feature over the last several months. "This isn't what you want. I'm not what you want. You shouldn't be with an apostate like me. Especially…it's…I can't control myself around you. I am dangerous."

She opened her mouth to speak but I shook my head and lifted a finger to her lips, "No, Hawke. I can't…don't tempt me, not unless you're ready for what…for what all of this mean."

She stared at me, wide-eyed, before she leaned in and wrapped her arms around me. I gasped at the movement, body rigid as she hugged me and her head nestled below my chin. After a long, awkward moment I wrapped my arms loosely around her and relaxed, if only a little. I shivered, knowing how dangerously close to her bare skin I was. My hands on the silk of her robelike tunic, I could feel the little raised bump of her breastband. I tried desperately to keep my hands from searching out its lines beneath her shirt.

She had hugged me numerous times before, but never this long and never this underdressed. It was almost always while she was wearing armor and it was usually very, very brief.

And I didn't want it to end. In fact, as she started to pull away, I tightened my grip a little and settled my cheek atop her soft hair. She exhaled a sigh and, after a few more minutes, she moved away from me and I stood, watching her grab her staff and leaving me without another word. At least I got to watch her walk away, the candelight helping just a little to outline her delicious figure.

I collapsed back into the chair with my staff crossed over my body as I forced myself to sleep because I couldn't deal with the fact that I had just let her walk away again.

We saw each other practically every day but very rarely alone. We spent time together at the Hanged Man with our other friends, or at least our other compatriots, but oftentimes there was at least Varric in tow. Which was, truth be told, probably safer. If she came back to me in that same outfit, I didn't think I'd be able to stop myself.

She came to me some time later, perhaps a month shy of us knowing each other for two years, and stalked in. The clinic was slow that day and no one was around. She was clearly furious and I was, I'm not ashamed to say, a little afraid as to the reason why.

"Varric told me there have been Templars here. Why didn't _you _tell me?"

"I haven't seen you yet?" I offered weakly, taking half a step back from her. She was wearing a different set of armor than normal, a dark leather with light plate here and there. It was more like her every day clothing, mostly a pair of pants and a tunic but all of it fit like a second skin. It was growing much colder outside so her amount of bare skin was greatly, depressingly decreased.

"Am I going to have to sleep on your doorstep?"

"I can't imagine that would be very comfortable."

She snorted, shaking her head as she threw her hands up into the air. I watched her as she let the tension drain from her shoulders and wished that I could massage her delicate skin.

It was frigid outside, as cold as Kirkwall got. I had to find her, though; I needed her help.

I told her about the free mages, about the Tranquil Solution, about Ser Alrik. She agreed, without question, to help me.

And then it all went wrong. I remembered fleeing, as I settled into my clinic with a flask that I had hidden from myself. I lit a small fire in the fire-pit and sat for a moment before I downed some of the burning liquid and then stood, moving to start reorganize my things. I had to leave. I couldn't keep doing what I was doing. I was lost and I couldn't drag Hawke down with me.

I hadn't even heard her enter the clinic and didn't know she was there until her hand was on my arm.

"Anders."

I jumped and stilled, turning to look to her. "What are you doing here?"

"You're upset and we need to talk."

"What is there to talk about?" I grimaced, clenching my jaw. And my fists. "I very nearly murdered a girl, a _mage_ – the very person we're intent on saving. I - we, Justice and I…we're a monster. I cannot do this, I can't put you in danger being here."

"Anders. You were able to hear me, despite all of it, and you _stopped_. It is okay, she's okay – we're okay. You're able to control him, to some degree, still. And we can continue to work on it. You aren't a monster, Anders. We just need to… Anders, you knew in your heart what you were doing was wrong. That is _everything_. We can do this."

"You have too much faith in me. Without you…"

"Without me, nothing. There is no _without me_," she replied, and I thought I would break in two. "I am here, Anders." Her hand found mine and squeezed gently. She let go after a brief moment and it was everything I could do not to chase it with my own. "I know this is hard – mages are dangerous, or at least we can be. You and I, we have to prove that mages deserve to be free by proving that we can be normal – that we can live lives without demolishing them." She smiled a little lopsidedly, a very light pink blushing her cheeks. "I may not be the best example. But I do my best."

"If anyone is the perfect example of what a mage can be, it is you," I said, not able to stop myself. I practically had to hold myself up against my table to keep myself back from her.

"Anders," she moved closer, holding out papers. "I found these. After you left. Ser Alrik took the Solution to Meredith and to the Divine." She paused, and I thought I was going to die with anticipation. "Both of them, they denied him. He was just a terrible person, out of his mind with power. And everything, Anders – right now – everything is okay."

She left me again, with a look that made me feel better than all the words in all of Thedas could.

As with most of the nights that she came to visit me, she came to me with a package of food as a gift from her mother.

"What are you doing?" she asked as I kneeled by the front door, setting a saucer down.

"Setting out milk," I responded, shifting to stand and wiping my hands off as I watched her set the package down on my small table beside my chairs. "I miss having a cat around."

"I'm sure Shadow could scare one up for you," she smiled, the beautiful smile that meant everything was perfect for the moment. "I mean, without hurting it, of course."

"I may have to resort to that. I think the refugees have scared them all off, or eaten them," I laughed a little, running my hair through my recently cut hair. "I…uhh, thank you for the dinner. From Leandra?"

"She's afraid you don't eat," she shrugged a little, her lips quirked up as she reached out and touched my arm lightly. "And frankly, so am I. Besides, it's nice to see you…you know, alone sometimes. I wish you'd visit me more. I know it's dangerous, but you can always take the cellar. Mother would have to have you over, too. She thinks you're quite handsome."

"She does, does she?"

"She makes _me_ blush sometimes," she grinned and color bloomed in her cheeks. "I mean, I…"

"So you think I'm handsome too, then?"

"You know I do, Anders," she rolled her eyes at me and squeezed my arm gently.

Something in me broke. I couldn't keep it in any longer, not for one second. I couldn't hold back, not for one more second.

"Hawke," I spoke, and she could tell by my voice that I was changing the conversation. Her hand dropped to her side and she adjusted her stance to be straight-shouldered as she looked up at me, "…You know. You know all there is to know about me. You know what I almost did to that girl, everything about Justice. You know what a future would be like with someone like me. You've seen what I am, but I am still a man. You can't…you can't tease me like this and expect me to resist forever."

She blinked her wide brown eyes at me briefly before the edge of her perfect lips quirked up, just the one side. "…And how long, pray do tell, will it take to make you break?"

Little did she know that I already had. It wasn't even really a decision as I walked to two steps it took to scoop her up against me, one hand diving into her hair and the other wrapping around her back to hold her as tightly against me as I could. It took her half a second to realize what was going on but, just after my lips found hers, her arms were around me, holding me tight. I wanted her closer than this. I hated every layer of armor she wore, even if it continually saved her life in other situations.

The kiss was everything I thought it would be and I felt my heart swell in my chest as I poured every second of the last – Maker, what, three, three and a half? years – into that first kiss.

It ended far too quickly and I thought I would faint, honestly, at first. When I looked down at her face, I wanted to kiss her all over again. She looked up at him, starry-eyed and lips reddened. I swallowed hard, looking down at her and feeling like I could die. But in the best way.

"For over three years," I breathed, moving my hand from her hair to her cheek, "I have been unable to stop thinking about you. I just…I ache for you, Hawke."

"Three years?" she murmured, eyes wide as she lifted a hand to smooth across the back of mine against her cheek. "And you're just now telling me?"

I chuckled a little, feeling hollow and full all in the same breath. "This can only end disastrously, but I can't live without it. Without you. We could die tomorrow and I need you to know how I feel about you." I let my hand fall frown her cheek and turned away a little, suddenly incredibly uncomfortable.

Her hands were on my cheeks, turning my face gently towards hers. "And how do you feel about me, Anders?"

I felt sick, the words so close. Instead, I blurted out, "I can't give you a normal life, Hawke. When I accepted Justice, I thought that was the end of anything like this. If you are with me, this will not be an easy life."

"My life never has been," she murmured, and I fell in love with her all over again when she pulled my face gently to hers, pressing her lips to mine for an all too brief kiss.

"…I will come to your house tonight, Hawke. If you leave your bedroom door open, I will come to you and tell you everything. Every thought I have ever had about you, how I need you, how I want you, how I lo-" I stopped, hissing in a breath, "…but if your door is closed, I will understand and that will be the end of it."

"From this night on," she smiled at me and I felt weak and electric all at once as she moved to leave the clinic, "I will leave my bedroom door open."

And she left me, my heart thudding in my chest like a stampeding bronto. Because I believed and, probably more than that, because I wanted to.

She did. She left the door open and I saw her, standing gazing into the fire with much less on than I had seen her in aside from the times I healed her, before she saw me. I stopped outside of the room, eyes trailing over her in case this didn't go as planned. I needed to commit this to memory.

The red silk tunic she had worn all that time ago, on her knees in front of me, was all that she wore that I could see. Her legs, long and lean and tan by birth, seemed to be endless. Her fingers worried the lower hem of her shirt and it looked somehow lower cut than it did before. Or undone.

I propelled myself forward through the door, walking a little heavier for effect and she jumped slightly, turning to look at me and stilling her hands immediately.

"Anders," she smiled at me, and I wanted to freeze that image forever. The look she gave me made me feel warm and cold all over, "…I am so glad you came. I wasn't sure if…"

"I couldn't stop myself if I tried. And trust me, Justice did. He doesn't approve of my…obsession with you," I responded a little awkwardly, stopping far enough away that I could see all of her. "He believes that you're a distraction. You are one of the few things on which he and I disagree."

"I'm glad that you and I are on the same page, at least," she had turned completely to me and I wanted to walk over and scoop her into my arms. I set my staff down against the side of the fireplace. "I think…you know, if you hadn't come, I think I would have gone looking for you."

"Like that?" I asked, regretting it immediately as her cheeks flared with color. "Not- …not that I am complaining, not at all. It just… I'm sorry, Hawke. I don't know what I'm saying. I'm nervous."

She smiled again and took a step towards me. "It's okay. So am I."

"I don't know…how to do this. How to love. In the Circle, it wasn't…it was never real. A game. Something to pass the time. You couldn't really love someone because love gave the Templars power over you. They could take away something you love. And I don't think…I couldn't handle losing you. I think, honestly, I might just…die."

I hadn't realized I'd moved closer, nor that I was reaching out to her cheek. She was still but not in a frightened way. "You won't ever lose me," she murmured, tilting her head into my hand. She closed her eyes briefly but found mine again.

"No mage I know has ever dared to fall in love," I said, eyes locked on hers. I couldn't look away if my life depended on it. "I didn't have a say in it and this is the rule I will most cherish breaking."

My hand slid into her hair and as I leaned in, lips hovering over hers, I heard her whisper, "And I love you too, Anders."

I don't think, after those words left her lips, I would have been able to stop if the Templars came to drag me away. I lost myself in the taste and feel of her, tempering my need and desire for completion with need and desire to know exactly how ever tiny spec of her felt. I tasted and touched every inch of her and I was relatively confident the both of us were ready to explode when we finally came together. The twisted thing was, as soon as we settled next to each other in her giant bed, I the ache doubled in my chest. Instead of feeling somewhat satisfied, I felt like I would never know the end to the hunger I felt for her. So instead of allowing either of us to fall asleep, I kissed and touched her until I was useful again and we continued on until we both collapsed in complete exhaustion. Even as I dreamt, it was more of how I needed her. I was terrified of how much I burned for her, but she had finally let me in. And she loved me too.

She loved me. The beautiful, perfect woman that I was holding, snoozing lightly against my side. She loved me and I loved her and, for a minute, there wasn't a damn thing the world could do about it.

She woke up a little after I did – it wasn't that I minded being awake. It gave me time to examine her features, her beauty, the way her lips twitched every few seconds with whatever she was dreaming of.

I needed her with every breath. When she stirred, I couldn't stop myself from tugging her closer. She smiled a slow, contented sort of smile as she turned to press a kiss against my chest.

"I could get used to this," she murmured, stretching her arm across me as she moved to settle her cheek against my shoulder and her forehead against my scruffy jaw.

"You mean last night?"

"That too," she purred, her hand slipping below the blanket to graze my leg. She didn't need to do much to stir me, being close to her was enough. "But I meant waking up with you. Anders..." She spoke, her voice low as she tugged the blanket away from both of us and climbed on top of me, mesmerizing me with the sight and feel of her. "Will you stay with me? Here?"

"Do you mean.." I hesitated, not wanting to ask and be wrong. But she nodded, sliding her hands up my chest as she leaned down to kiss me. "You would have me live with you? Here in Hightown, have the nobles and Templars subject to our love?"

"Only if you promise," she started, kissing every part of me she could gain quick access to, "to make love to me every chance we get."

"I can most definitely promise you that."

And, for a while, it was magnificent. I moved in that day and fulfilled my promise repeatedly every chance I got. I touched her and kissed her in public, I told her I loved her with every breath (not literally) and the more I had her, the more I wanted her. And the more I wanted her, the more Justice disapproved. The more Justice disapproved, the harder he became to control.

But it was okay. It was okay because Hawke stuck by me. Hawke was with me through everything, trying to help me understand what was going on - trying to find a way to save the mages and save Justice.

There came a time when I lied to her and I knew something was wrong with me because it was easy. I needed ingredients for something despicable, something I knew as a man was wrong but something I couldn't stop myself from doing. But I am getting ahead of myself.

I followed her back to her estate the night her mother died but didn't approach her right away. I couldn't figure out what to say or do. I let her find her bed and change. She seemed unaffected aside from the blank look on her face.

When she settled on the side of her bed, staring into the wall across from her, I knocked. "Come in," she said, deadpan, and she didn't turn when I sat beside her.

"I know there's nothing I can say…but I am sorry, Hawke."

She remained silent and I frowned, searching my mind for the right words. "No one can blame you for this."

"You don't know my family very well," she snorted, clasping her knees gently.

"That's true, but they have no right."

"I wasn't fast enough," she responded, not trying to deny my statement.

"It just wasn't possible, Hawke. You have to know it wasn't your fault."

"Part of me does. But part of me thinks I should've known…or something. Should've been able to stop it. Should've tried harder before, when Gascard was a problem before."

"At least you have your memories. And when the pain fades, you'll be glad of those."

"Some of them, anyway. But thank you. For coming, and for waiting."

"Do you want me to stay at the clinic tonight?"

She turned to me then and if I ever questioned her love for me, I never would again with the look she gave me. "Not on your life, Anders."

And, despite the fact that I knew she would eventually kill me, I stayed and loved her with every fiber of my being. If it had to be someone, I'd want it to be her. I just didn't want it to break her heart, even if I knew there was no way around it.

It was incredible, her love for me. She did not question me, not that I know of. She offered to help me in whatever endeavors I put to her. Occasionally she would express concern at my intensity but she agreed with my methods, for the most part. As Justice and I grew emboldened, she did too. I don't think she was the same person that I met all those years ago and I believed it was my doing. The closer the time came, the harder it was for me. The Arishok proved a good distraction, especially when he nearly took the one thing still anchoring me to some semblance of reality.

I kept her in bed for days, fawning over her every waking minute. She was more or less unconscious for most of the time and when she finally sat up, I thought I would die of relief.

"Oh, love, it's so nice to see you," she smiled at me as I sat beside her, reaching out to touch her cheek.

"You scare me half to death, Hawke," I breathed, drinking in her animated features. At that point, I was still seriously contemplating the split between myself and Justice. It would be some weeks before I became obsessed with my plan to destroy the Chantry.

"But we won," she lifted her hand, shaky and cold, to press my palm closer to her cheek and hold it there. "With you at my side, I cannot lose," she continued and turned her face to kiss my palm.

My blood heated immediately and I smiled sheepishly, "You can't do that. You're barely awake."

"I need you," she murmured against my skin and, despite my better judgment, I couldn't deny her. And I didn't really want to.

The mage tension grew fiercer and so did Hawke. To my knowledge, she did not speak to or of her Templar brother although I would come to find out that I was mistaken.

She stood for the mages every chance she got, even when Meredith none-too-subtly threatened her. She may have been the Champion, she may have been noble, and she may have had the peoples' favor – but Meredith never let her forget who was in charge. Hawke didn't care because, above all, she believed she was in the right.

The scariest interaction to date was the argument that took place in the Gallows, one that Hawke originally had no intention of joining. She and I had been to purchase a book I required to continue my manifesto – something that she was actually involved in, to my delight – and the First Enchanter asked her to participate in the discussion, knowing full well her belief on the subject. Meredith too knew Hawke's feelings and did not want her to speak. She made a rather uncouth comment regarding our relationship, which only fueled Hawke's resolve to let everyone know exactly what she thought ought to be done.

Things grew ever worse in Kirkwall over the ensuing years, bringing me closer and closer to the decision to do what Justice and I decided must be done. Without question or hesitation, Hawke helped me procure the necessary elements despite the fact that I do not believe she truly accepted my explanation. Although I was distracted by the ever-growing urgency to do _something_, our relationship did not suffer. She threw herself into what had become **our** work and we still made love with every opportunity. For a man that had no thought to be in love, I was the happiest I could have ever imagined.

Many things happened before that fateful day, but when I think back on my life I remember it the most. Not, perhaps, because I blew up the Chantry and killed countless innocent people. Not because I started a war. But because of the look of hurt and betrayal in the eyes of the one woman that meant more to me than anything. I don't believe I will ever forget that look as long as I live.

"But Anders," she whispered, shock contorting her features as she approached me, hand outstretched. "How…how _could_ you?"

"I had to do something." I couldn't tell her the truth, it would only make her feel as though she was responsible. I had done it, in essence, for her. Because she deserved a free world. Because the child inside of her (she, she had no idea) deserved to be free, to never have to worry about Templars.

"But we..we **were**," she cried, her hand on my cheek. "Destroying the Chantry is one thing; killing innocents is something else entirely. Is this…there never was a potion, was there?"

And the look she gave me froze me to the core. I thought I was prepared for her to hate me, but I was not prepared for the pain in her eyes. The heartbreak evident on her face.

Our companions – her friends – called for my blood and what she did next surprised me most of all. I had been completely prepared for her to strike me down, had thought that I would die at the hands of my love.

"If any of you so much as draw blood, I will **destroy** you."

Sebastian did not take kindly to that and left us. Fenris, despite his views on magic, stood by Hawke. No one attempted to harm me. Hawke turned back to me and pulled me up by the front of my robes.

"This is our fight, Anders. Youy were the catalyst, but it has been long in coming. I need you by my side."

And she took my by the hand.

We went on the run immediately after the battle was won – or as close as it could be. I had warned her it would be hard but she never complained, not even when the pregnancy sickness struck her. It took her days to realize what it was and I knew from the look on her face that the rest of my Taint-shortened life would be as perfect as it ever could have been.


	2. Fenris

**A/N:** Fenris/Fem!Hawke Mage Rivalmance. Varric next. Then I think Fem!Hawke/Sebastian. I'll see what else I can come up with. I'm trying to work on some other stories too. I'm on AO3 as jenaicompris also. I'll try to update both simultaneously. As usual, not beta'd.

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><p>She was a mage. No matter her kindness, she was a mage. No matter her beauty, all pale skin and freckles, she was a Maker-damned mage.<p>

She was infuriatingly understanding. And she was infuriatingly beautiful. Where I was all hard angles, she was soft curves. Her hair was the color of fire, not like the Guard Captain's – brilliant and deep, like it would burn me if I dared to touch it. Instead of avoiding my opinion on magic, she allowed me my frustrations and tried her best to explain her own stance.

She showed interest. She flirted, in a subtle and tentative way. In a way that made me want to shake her and take her and all of the things that a man does with a woman that drives him absolutely mad. I cannot tell you if I loved her or hated her but with my Hawke I think that the line was a fine one. She was the kind of person that made it difficult not to like her while in the same moment had you questioning if she was ever actually telling you the whole truth. If she had not been born with magic, she would have made an excellent bard.

She did everything she could to make me feel comfortable around her, aside from stopping using her magic. And it frustrated me. It made it harder to ignore the length of her delicate neck, the curve of her excellent bottom, the fullness of her lips.

The more time I spent with her, the more the need for her grew. Be it because of her treatment of Orana (good) or her insistence that magic wasn't all bad (irritating) or the fact that the noble clothes she wore after returning from the Deep Roads expedition were incredibly daring.

Even after her mother died at the hands of a crazed mage, she could not bring herself to condemn everyone with magic. I wanted to console her but I didn't have the words. We sat in silence but, after several minutes, she rested her temple against my shoulder. She sighed, long-since having cried all that she could. I hesitated but, eventually, slid my arm over her thin shoulders. We remained silent and together until she sat up, craning her neck before lifting a hand to rub at the soreness her position had created. Without thinking, without knowing what it would do to either of us, I lifted my hand and began to rub along the delicate sinews of her neck. The sound of relief she made froze me for a moment before it lit a fire under me. I moved back on her bed and turned, bringing her with me. She was tentative as she settled between my legs but she relaxed as I danced my fingers across her bare neck, over the silk of her expensive dress. I was dying, mesmerized by the feel of her beneath her clothes and the occasional, magnificent noise she made.

Eventually, despite my attempts to will my hands to continue, my fingers grew weary and I let my hands fall away. She leaned back into me with a sigh and I thought I was going to implode or explore or just simply die.

"Thank you," she purred, her temple against my jaw. I did everything I could to keep my breathing steady. "That was exactly what I needed." She hesitated, sitting up before she stood from the bed. Dazed, I stood also. She looked at me with her brilliant blue eyes, the color of the sky, and put her hand on my chest. My heart thrummed as though I had just finished decimating a slew of enemies. "I'm asking you to go now not because I want to, but because I need to. If you stay a moment longer, I won't be able to stop myself from doing something that could very well ruin our tenuous friendship."

I couldn't move. My brain told me I needed to, that I had to respect her wishes, but my feet absolutely refused. I glanced from her eyes to her lips and I was lost.

"Fenris," she warned, moving closer. My hands moved of their own volition to hold her waist. "Fenris," she repeated, breathless as she moved close enough for me to feel her utterance of my name.

"Hawke-" Varric's voice, the damnable dwarf, broke the spell and we jerked apart. Hurriedly and without looking back, I removed myself from her room and her home, glaring at Varric as I passed.

"What's his problem?" I heard him ask but did not hear her reply as I walked into the darkened street.

It took every ounce of willpower within me not to stalk back to her home and take her like I dreamed of. Every night. The ghost of her breath on my skin made me want to drink but when I did, I wanted her more. I was more than a little drunk about two weeks later, after facing Hadriana. After killing her.

I wanted to feel better but I couldn't. I was seething. I couldn't think straight, be it the hatred or the drink, and I found myself waiting for Hawke in her foyer when she arrived home that evening.

"Fenris!" she jumped when she saw me, rushing over but stopping short. "I was worried about you."

I winced but moved over, allowing her to sit beside me. It was the closest we had been since the night in her room after her mother died. I did not look at her, instead inspected my hands. My killer hands. My _magical_ hands.

"I have been thinking about what happened and…while you and I often do not agree, you do not deserve my anger. Her being here was not your fault and I…appreciate what you did for me."

"You do not have to apologize, nor do you have to thank me, Fenris. You should not have to face such things alone. Or anything, really. If you don't want to. But…you are welcome," she settled in, leaning her back against the wall behind her. She was dressed in the same clothes I had seen her in earlier that day, her clothing quite filthy with blood and dirt. Sweat dried her hair to her forehead and her cheeks were flushed; it appeared she had been out searching after me all day, even after the slaver caverns.

"I apologize for having left so suddenly and…for worrying you. I needed to be alone. Facing Hadriana…I remembered everything. All of the torment she put me through, hounding my sleep and making my waking hours unbearable." I stopped, frowning and shaking my head. I stood, unable to sit any longer, and began to pace. I clenched and unclenched my fists as she sat up; I could feel her eyes tracing me as I took my steps. "As a slave, there was nothing I could do in response. I could not…I could not simply allow her to slip through my grasp." I paused, hesitant to reveal the truth. I sighed heavily, shoulders slumping as I halted in front of her. "I wanted to, Hawke. I wanted to let her go, but I just…could not."

"I understand," she responded, causing my hackles to raise.

"How could you possibly understand?" I growled, jerking away from her.

"Quentin," she responded with no malice in her voice. I groaned, feeling like a fool for being so stupid. "I know it isn't the same, Fenris. I understand that what you are talking about is most of the life that you remember, but I do know what it feels like to both want to kill someone for what they've done and to…not quite regret, but hate that you wanted to so much. Part of me feels sick when I think about it and part of me feels empowered."

"I do not," I shook my head, folding my arms over my chest. "This hatred is a sickness. I feel no better than I did before with her dead. I thought I would feel…relief, but I feel nothing but the rage of the memories inside of me. What would you have me do? Would you have me forgive them? Forget everything they have done to me?"

She stood and approached me but did not touch me, shaking her head. "Fenris. You are going to hate me for what I am about to say, but I must say it. You are a slave to your hatred, Fenris, and until you free yourself from it, you will never be able to feel better."

She was right.

I hated her.

And I hated her more because she was right. About all of it. But I was drunk and angry and she was beautiful, even disgusting, and I hated her.

And I wanted her.

I shook my head, threw my hands up into the air, and mumbled about how that wasn't why I came over before I stormed into the night again.

I couldn't avoid her, as much as I wanted to. She needed my help and I promised I would help her whenever she needed me. Even though I could not decide if I wanted to kiss her or kill her.

It was another two weeks before I just could not take it anymore.

I opened the door to her estate to see her halfway through the foyer, dressed in a simple noble dress that betrayed every curve of her body.

"I have been thinking of you without reprieve, endlessly," I growled, coming to stand nearly on top of her. She remained standing still, her chest pressing against mine as she breathed in. My fingers, bare of my normal armor, grasped her gently on her uncovered arms. "Command me to go, and I will."

She lifted her hands, both of them pressing flat against my chest. My hands shifted to her hips and I suppressed a shiver. "And what if I promise to never command you to do anything?"

And I could not stop myself. There was not a single part of me that even thought about stopping as I crushed her to me and finally took the kiss that I desperately needed from her. Her hands slid up, one holding onto the back of my neck and one burying into my hair. I backed her up into the nearest open wall, holding her between me and the stone.

"I will give you one more chance," I spoke, low, against her lips, eyes open to search hers, "to tell me to leave."

She pushed off of the wall and turned us, pressing my shoulders hard against the stone before she pulled me down to mold her lips to mine. At that point, I am not sure I could have left if I wanted to.

I lifted her and could hear her dress tear as she wrapped her legs around me. She didn't even hesitate, jerking it up with one hand and letting it tear passed her undergarments. I held her firmly under her backside, not hesitating to squeeze it as we moved through the house. We hesitated on the stairs, pausing to explore each other before she took my hand and led me to her bedroom. I could see nothing but her, taste nothing but her, and wanted nothing but her.

I want nothing but to say that we made love over and over that night and that I completely and totally embraced everything she gave to me.

The truth is, I cherished every moment, every second, every breath, every sound, every touch, every taste. It was intense and fierce; it was everything I thought it would be and even more.

And then, in the most magnificent moment of my life as she shook beneath and around me with my name echoing off her lips, our backs arching to bring us together. I pulled her up against me and kissed her with all the passion of every unused moment for the years I had known her. And as the shiver of ecstasy passed through me, my mind exploded with memory.

I gasped at the flood of images, flashes of colors and feelings. We collapsed together and as I came down from the euphoria that was joining with Hawke, the memories faded. I nearly cried at the loss of it, unable to breathe for a moment.

Like a coward, I moved away from Hawke and began to dress.

"Was it that bad?" she frowned, sitting up. I glanced at her and my fear was nearly chased away. She was a vision, naked atop her bedspread with her magnificent hair flowing around her like a waterfall of flames.

"It was fine," I waved a hand dismissively but grimaced at this look on her face. "No, that is insufficient. It was better than anything I could have imagined. It just…I cannot."

She blanched, standing after a moment and approaching me. Of all the things I expected her to do, help me dress was not one of them.

"Memories," I blurted, trying to find a reason, an excuse for why I was doing what I was doing. "All of my memories returned in one moment and then they were gone again. To have them and to lose them…I simply cannot."

"I understand, Fenris," she responded, finding one of my pieces and offering it to me. "To have no memory of your life and then suddenly to gain it all and lose it all over again, that must be difficult. I will always be here for you, but I do not expect anything."

In that moment I wanted to hit her more than I could ever remember. How could she possibly be so damned understanding? I wanted her to hate me as much as I hated myself.

I couldn't even muster the appropriate responses, so I just stared at her for a long minute. I couldn't help myself and jerked her to me, crushing my mouth to hers before I left, silently, to talk back to my hatred and wine.

Time spent with Hawke was painful. What made it worse was her gift and offer to teach me to read.

How was I supposed to sit in a room alone with her and not touch every inch of her entrancing body?

I spent so much time with her, I thought I was going to expire from the need. Seeing her around Anders made my blood boil. It wasn't that she was inappropriate – not Hawke – but his damnable puppy dog eyes.

Once, he asked her if she was sure about me. Even though there was not an 'us'. I was getting more drinks so he assumed that I could not hear.

Her response was perfect.

"Yes," she said simply, despite everything I had done, everything I had put her through.

"But he hates what we are."

"Not really, I don't think. He hates what we can do. What mages have done. He is a good man and that is the end of this discussion."

When she faced the Arishok, I wanted to tell her that I loved her. Instead I told her that only the living know victory.

I was petrified by the idea of losing her but I should have known that she would not leave me like that. Still, I could not tell her. Still, I was a coward.

It wasn't until after Danarius came to take me that I realized what I needed to do.

"Give me back my pet and I will leave without incident."

"I'm sorry, I just cannot understand a thing you're saying," she responded. "Did you misplace your nug? Because there are no pets here."

"The elf," Danarius responded, unamused.

"Do you mean Fenris? I'm quite sorry," she frowned, shaking her head, "but to suggest that you have ownership of the man that I love is not something I can abide."

"Oh you love him, do you? I _own_ him. If you will not give him, then I will take him."

"To do so you will certainly have to kill me. And, if you haven't heard, I have a nasty habit of not dying."

And Danarius was the one to fall. I spared Varania, mostly because of the look in Hawke's eyes. I wanted to kill her for what she had done but did not know that if Hawke could take watching me murder the only surviving member of my family. I did not know if I could handle it either.

I left in a hurry, not able to face Hawke or myself. It was hours before she knocked against the door frame. She moved to stand in the doorway . She had bathed and changed since I saw her last; she was dressed in a simple gown made of the same beautiful silk she had been wearing all that time ago.

I made a noise and waved my hand in a gesture I hoped bespoke more than just that I wanted her to stay. Either way, she walked in and took up in the chair beside me. She crossed her legs at the knee and her dress hiked up enough to show me the gentle curve of her calf ending in shoes that were as thin as fabric, wrapped like ribbons around her delicate ankles.

"I just wanted you to know that you aren't alone."

Practically ignoring her, I stared into the flames of the fire in the fireplace I had stolen from my dead master. "What do I do now?"

"Much of the same, I imagine. You were free before, Fenris. Now you just don't have to worry about anyone coming to claim you."

Her words angered me – not because she was wrong, just the opposite. I had been free for years but could not shake the shackles of my hatred.

"I didn't mean to upset you," she said, shifting in the chair. I glanced over and saw her frowning. "I came here to be a friend, not a bother."

"Did you mean it?" I asked, catching in the word 'friend'.

"Did I mean what?"

"What you said to Danarius, about who I am to you."

Her eyes flashed with something and she nodded a little, smiling faintly. "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't."

"But _how_?" I stood, moving to the hearth. I faced away from her, hiding the smile that her words brought to my lips.

"It's not as though I have much of a choice in the matter."

Her voice was light and I suppressed a shiver at the idea that she loved me. I still could not look at her, not trusting myself to do so.

"After all I have done? I should not have left like I did, all those years ago. I was a coward."

She stood; I could hear her moving behind me even in her delicate shoes. Moreover I could feel her behind me. But she did not touch me.

"I told you I understand and I did. I do. I don't hold it against you and I never have."

I turned a little, watching her out of the corner of my eyes.

"Can you forgive me?"

She moved closer and I dropped my head forward. Her hand slid onto my shoulder as she brought herself close enough to brush me, her lips close enough to brush my ear. "There is nothing to forgive."

I turned, trapping her in my arms and backing her to the wall beside the fireplace. "I have not stopped thinking about that night for one moment," I sighed, feeling her heart thrumming against my chest and her body pressing against mine with her breath. "If you will have me, Hawke, I will gladly walk through hell at your side."

She lifted her hand from between us and pressed it against my cheek. Tenderness, although not unwelcome, was somewhat foreign. She stroked the bone below my eye gently before her fingers slid back to the base of my neck, interlacing her fingers in my hair.

The unease in Kirkwall grew and her views on magic did not win her any favors with the Knight-Commander. We would run errands for the First Enchanter and every time we discovered a blood mage, I saw it strike a blow to her spirit. Somehow, though, she managed to keep up with the rest of the world.

When I was taken by mages, I cannot say what happened. I do not remember much aside from waking up in the sand with her hands on my cheeks, her lips all over.

"Fenris, Fenris, oh for the love of the Maker, Fenris, wake up," she sobbed, her forehead pressed to mine.

As unromantic as it is, I coughed in her face. She didn't seem to notice even a little as she gasped in surprise, wrapping her arms around my neck to hold me tightly against it.

"Fenris," she sighed, pulling back enough to stand so that she could help me to my feet. "I killed them all, Fenris." She frowned, her dirty, bloodied face streaked with tears. Her hands were outstretched, showcasing the decimated mages and Templars. "But I had to. They took you."

I didn't know what to do so I moved forward, a little shaky at first, and wrapped her in my arms. "But you found me, Hawke. It is…it is all right now."

And truly, it was.

We sided with the mages; even Carver found us to assist. They were never close and he was rarely kind to her, but he stood with her as she fought. As we fought.

"In case we don't…I don't..." she started, faltering as she stood before me, taking a moment before we pressed on to speak.

"Hush," I responded, pressing my finger to her lips. The armor looked harsh against the perfect pink bow. "We will walk out much the same way we are about to walk in, Hawke. Together."

And we did. And we kept on walking, together, out of Kirkwall and into our future.


End file.
